Central Park, Deck 8

The one place I can find peace and quiet. Central Park, Deck 8. Above me, chaos ensues. Children screaming, parents yelling. The beauty of being on a large boat. I sit under the shade of a cabana With a Starbucks and a book. I try to write but I can’t think of anything. Too muchContinue reading “Central Park, Deck 8”

August in the City

I wrote this poem last year on a park bench in Washington Square Park. I carried an umbrella, walking down Fifth Avenue, waiting for the rain to fall. I held one of Patti Smith’s first books at the Strand. I admired Robert Mapplethorpe’s photographs at the Guggenheim. I told a man from Africa about ToniContinue reading “August in the City”